NOVEMBER 9, 1934
I WAS BACK TO MY OLD game of tossing cards into my hat. I was finally playing with a full deck—don’t say anything—but a game of whist with the new head on my table was exhausting, so I inevitably gave up and went back to the old toss.
“You ever been to Hat Scratch Fever?” I asked after missing the jack of spades.
“I’ve heard of it,” he said.
“Did you ever think about—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was about to say.”
“You were going to offer to treat,” he said, “and I don’t care. I never paid for it, and I never will. That might work for you, Jones, but where I come from, we have a little more pride.”
I looked him up and down, the full foot and a quarter of him. He wasn’t smiling.
“You’re putting me on,” I said.
He finally cracked a grin. “Yeah. Were you gett
